


safe and sound

by sweggscellent



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blindfolds, Choking, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Vibrators, kind of anyway they just graduated but hey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 23:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1665839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweggscellent/pseuds/sweggscellent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The rest of everything, hm?” Marco asks, a bit of a lilt to his voice. He presses forward a bit, his hips aligning neatly with Jean’s, and drops a little bit more of his weight into Jean’s lower half. </p><p>“Mm,” Jean hums, peeking an eye open to glance up at Marco. Their faces are close, and Jean has an idea as to what Marco’s trying to get up to. Marco confirms that idea when he brings his hands up to first cup at Jean’s neck and then slides them down to play with the collar of his shirt as he rubs their noses together.</p><p>“I think we still have a little bit of work to do,” Marco hums, leaning back enough to slide his hands down Jean’s front and splay them against his ribs. “Christening, and all that.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	safe and sound

**Author's Note:**

> LIKE COMMENT AND SUBSCRIBE BELOW

“We should buy more paintings,” is the first thing Marco says after crashing on the loveseat of his and Jean’s new apartment.

They graduated from college a few days ago and have only just finished moving into their new apartment; the first one they’ve had together as actual boyfriends living on their own, and it’s nicer than the place they just moved out of. It’s larger, with newly polished wooden floors and actual baseboards and lighting that doesn’t flicker every few moments, but Marco’s right; the walls are a bit sparsely decorated. It adds a little to that just-moved-in feeling.

But whatever, because that can wait. They’ve been moving shit all day, and Jean knows they’re both exhausted. He exhales and chances a look at the fancy wall clock Mikasa got them as a housewarming gift.

“It’s 5:30,” Jean says, tipping his head back onto the sofa where he’s seated next to Marco, their thighs pressed together. He closes his eyes. “Paintings can wait. The rest of everything can wait.”

Marco smiles, shifting closer to Jean and adjusting himself so he’s straddling his boyfriend’s lap. Jean groans a bit at the added weight, but twitches his hips nonetheless to get more comfortable as he brings his arms up to lazily wrap around Marco’s waist.

“The rest of everything, hm?” Marco asks, a bit of a lilt to his voice. He presses forward, his hips aligning neatly with Jean’s, and drops a little bit more of his weight into Jean’s lower half.

“Mm,” Jean hums, peeking an eye open to glance up at Marco. Their faces are close, and Jean has an idea as to what Marco’s trying to get up to. Marco confirms that idea when he brings his hands up to first cup at Jean’s neck and then slides them down to play with the collar of his shirt as he rubs their noses together.

“I think we still have a little bit of work to do,” Marco hums, leaning back enough to slide his hands down Jean’s front and splay them against his ribs. “Christening, and all that.”

That actually sounds pretty appetizing to Jean, and he’s about to assent to the plan in the form of picking Marco up and tossing him on the couch to fuck him senseless when his stomach growls strongly enough for Marco to feel it against his own.

Marco laughs brightly and immediately shuffles off of Jean, standing and giving him his hand with a smile. “We’ll christen the fridge and stove first. And then we can get down to serious business.”

Jean snorts but doesn’t object, taking his boyfriend’s hand and letting him lead him into the kitchen.

The sun is just beginning to creep low enough into the sky to cast gold light over the planes of the polished floor of their ( _their_ ) den as they finish their first dinner in a kitchen they jointly own.

When Marco stands from their little dining table set for four and drags Jean up with him to press his lips to his, they both taste of coffee and sandwiches, but Jean just makes a soft noise and presses himself more snugly against Marco’s body.

Marco licks his way into Jean’s mouth and sweeps his tongue across the roof of his mouth and over Jean’s own tongue, eliciting more soft sounds from him. Hoping to whoever is listening that his arms won’t give out underneath the both of them after his day of moving, he leans down just enough to grip the back of Jean’s thighs and hoist him up. Jean’s body reacts on instinct and jerks upward, Jean’s thighs locking tight around Marco’s waist, and he moans when Marco lets his hands slide the last few inches so he’s gripping his ass.

It’s a little awkward as Marco shuffles them both toward the bedroom like this, and when Jean nearly hits his head on the top of the doorway to the den, he breaks from Marco’s coffee mouth and agitatedly breathes the word _wall._

Marco doesn’t protest; he simply nods and turns, slamming Jean probably a little too roughly into the smooth lavender, briefly thankful that there aren’t any paintings yet to knock down. Jean grunts but otherwise makes no indication of being in pain; instead, he tries to let his legs drop, but Marco rocks his hips upward, driving Jean a few inches up the wall and more securely into his grasp.

“Like you like this,” Marco whispers into Jean’s mouth, and Jean whimpers a bit because it’s rare that Marco gets this way; controlling, decisive in the way he wants to fuck Jean.

Marco pulls back from Jean’s mouth after a final tug with his teeth at Jean’s lower lip and nudges at his jaw. Jean tilts his head, breathing harsh as he watches the mottled shadows created by the tree outside their kitchen window shift on the ceiling.

His mind is both elsewhere and here, focused on the way Marco is mouthing hot and wet at his skin and responding to it with small whimpers and smaller moans. He thinks about living here with Marco, the person he’s loved the longest and the hardest, the one person he’s simultaneously never been afraid of losing and has been the most afraid of losing, how living together has been the plan all along, even before they knew they were in love.

Snapping back to focus solely on Marco’s mouth, Jean lets himself be held up by Marco’s body as he snakes his own hands down to unbuckle his belt. He slides it out, the swish of the leather through denim getting Marco’s attention, and he pulls away from the mark he’s sucking into his boyfriend’s skin.

“Bedroom, c’mon,” is all Marco says, finally letting Jean’s legs drop, and he’s pulling his own belt loose as they hurry there.

Marco shoves Jean onto the bed the moment the door shuts behind them, and Jean shivers, because god he loves it when Marco is like this.

Marco crawls over Jean, bending at the neck to push more kisses into Jean’s skin, anywhere he can reach.

“‘M gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t remember where you are,” he whispers, and Jean whines, arching his body wantonly against Marco’s. “Gonna fill you up so fucking good with this cock.”

 _“Please,”_ Jean finds himself whimpering, his own cock almost painfully hard in his pants. “Oh, fuck, please.”

Marco leans back onto Jean’s thighs, quickly shedding his shirt as Jean follows suit. He presses back down, skin on skin, and sucks harshly on Jean’s lower lip, a thigh going between his legs. Jeans reaches up, at first grasping desperately at Marco’s shoulder blades before curving his hands and letting his nails rake down Marco’s warm, naked back.

“Shit,” Marco hisses against Jean’s flushed mouth, and slides his hands over Jean’s shoulders before pulling his arms up. He stretches them over Jean’s head and then back until Jean is gripping the headboard, and Jean knows what’s coming.

“Don’t let go,” Marco commands, and Jean whines again, turning his head to press his mouth against his shoulder. Marco stands and Jean watches as he digs through their nightstand (very glad for the fact that they’re already unpacked and organized, for the most part, and at Marco’s insistence). Jean’s stomach jolts with interest when he watches Marco pull out two things alongside the usual lube and condom: a blindfold they’ve never used, and a small finger vibrator they’ve only used once.

“This okay?” Marco asks when he notices Jean’s interest, concern creeping gently into his tone.

“Yeah,” Jean says, and then, a little quieter, “No condom.”

Marco watches him for a moment, and when Jean doesn’t retract the statement, smiles.

“Alright,” Marco says, setting the items down next to Jean’s side. He makes quick work of Jean’s pants and underwear, and then sits back to survey him. Marco bites his knuckle; Jean’s so fucking beautiful, arms tense from all the work they’ve done today and gripping the headboard, legs already wipe open, flushed cock lying heavy against his stomach.

Marco crawls back over his boyfriend and hovers over Jean’s abdomen, knees on either side of him as he grabs the blindfold and ties it securely around Jean’s head.

“That okay?” he asks again, brushing gentle fingertips across Jean’s cheekbone. Jean gives his assent and Marco smiles, leaning down to press a soft kiss against Jean’s lips.

He pulls back and brushes his thumbs teasingly over Jean’s nipples, smiling again when his mouth falls open. Marco scratches his nails lightly down Jean’s body until he’s at the tops of his thighs and then grabs them, pushing them apart as far as he can.

“Mm, look at you,” Marco starts, a self-conscious blush already creeping onto Jean’s face. Praise has always gotten Jean off, even if it makes him feel incredibly vulnerable.

“You look so good, all spread out for me and waiting for my cock.”

Jean moans at that, hips twitching. Marco smirks.

He grabs the lube, popping it open and slicking two of his fingers. He circles them around Jean’s entrance, feeling him twitch, and lets his middle finger slide all the way in to his knuckle. A breath escapes Jean, and before Marco even starts pumping, he says, “Two. Two, please.”

Marco bites his lip but trusts Jean’s requests, pulling back out and sliding two fingers in together. Jean’s tight, but Marco knows he can handle it, and encourages him with more dirty talk.

“That eager for my dick, mm?”

Jean chokes out a yes and Marco begins fucking him with his fingers, stretching Jean open and curling them to find his prostate.

“A little -- _Marco,_ \-- a little more-- oh _fuck,”_ Jean gasps, arching up when Marco finds what he’s looking for. He massages at the spot, watching as Jean falls apart, his arms beginning to tremble as his knuckles turn white where they’re holding onto their headboard. He’s biting down harshly on his lower lip, but the noises still get past, and Marco smiles, pushing a third finger in.

“Feel good?” Marco asks, and Jean moans brokenly.

Marco pulls out and reaches for the small vibrator, sliding it onto his middle finger and coating it with lubricant. He teases Jean’s hole with the pad of it, threatening to dip in and then pulling back. Jean’s cock still lies flushed and untouched.

“Marco, fuck, _please,”_ Jean cries, arm twitching like he’s about to let go of the headboard, but he seems to think better of it and leaves it there.

Marco smiles and just turns the vibrator onto the lowest of three settings and holds it there against Jean, watching as his hips jerk.

“Please, just touch me, Marco, _please,”_ Jean is begging, and Marco feels his resolve begin to slowly crumble.

He decides not to tease anymore, and instead, runs the slider up to the highest setting before pressing his finger inside of Jean, pushing the vibe up into where he knows his prostate is and holding it there firmly.

Jean cries out and bucks his hips, his inhales turning into sharp gasps as his exhales become shuddering moans. Marco rubs tight circles over Jean’s sweet spot and leans down, gripping the base of his boyfriend’s cock tight as he sucks firmly on the head, sweeping his tongue through Jean's wet slit.

Jean is beyond coherence, nothing but obscene noises and fucked versions of Marco’s name escaping him as Marco massages his prostate for all he’s worth.

When Marco doesn’t think either of them can take much more, he pulls out and lets go of Jean’s cock, hurriedly unzipping his own jeans and only shoving them as far as the tops of his thighs.

Leaning down, he kisses Jean tenderly on the mouth, soft and slow, and slicks his erection. He nudges the head of it over Jean’s twitching hole, and when he slides in all the way to the hilt, they both exhale long and hard, because it’s never felt like this before. It’s like Marco can feel all of Jean around him, every little twitch and detail, and the wind is knocked from his lungs for a few strained moments.

Shakily, Jean stutters, “Can I move my arms now?”, and Marco nuzzles his face against the side of Jean’s.

“Just don’t touch yourself,” he whispers darkly, but the tremble in his voice betrays him. Jean still listens, however, and grips the sheets, back curving.

Marco starts fucking him, slow and thick and  _good,_ and Jean’s hands almost immediately go to claw sharply into Marco’s shoulders. They’re both incredibly vocal as they move together _(“Together,”_ Marco thinks, _“In the apartment we own. In the bed we own.”_ ).

He pushes Jean’s thighs up and further apart, keeping his pace slow and even as he pulls out almost all the way only to slam back in. Jean cries out on each thrust, hands curling over Marco’s skin, nails leaving pink marks. Marco leans down, muffling his groans and harsh breaths in Jean’s sweaty neck.

“Marco,” Jean gasps, “Can you-- _fuck--_ choke me,” he requests, but halfway through it morphs from a question into a plea and Marco stills for only a moment.

When Jean notices the stutter, he cries out a quiet, “Please,” and Marco immediately obliges.

“Just -- _oh_ \-- just tell me if it’s t-too much,” Marco says, and Jean nods vehemently.

Marco keeps himself balanced over his boyfriend with one arm as the other goes to Jean’s neck, his hand curling against his throat, and one of Jean’s hands comes up to squeeze his wrist reassuringly.

 _“More,”_ Jean whispers, and then Marco is tightening his fingers, choking him and driving his cock hard against Jean’s prostate, almost losing himself in the moans he’s wrenching from Jean’s throat.

He knows Jean is close, his thighs tightening around Marco as he tries to gasp for breath, but Jean can’t warn him with the way Marco’s hand is curled against his windpipe, so instead, Marco leans down and breathes hot into his ear, “Come for me, baby.”

Jean does, his back arching sharply, hand tightening almost painfully where it’s still gripping Marco’s wrist. A wrecked sound somewhere between a gasp and cry escapes him, and Marco fucks him through his orgasm, letting his hand fall from Jean’s neck as he continues thrusting.

When Marco moves to pull out, though, for Jean's sake, Jean hastily pulls his blindfold off and grabs at Marco’s hips, pulling him in tight with his hands and legs.

The fucked-out look on Jean’s face and his nonverbal insistence is all it takes to rip Marco’s orgasm out of him, and he comes hard with a whimper, spilling inside of Jean.

Breathing hard, Marco lowers himself gently so he’s pressed shoulder-to-toe to Jean, their combined sweat and Jean’s come warm and slick between them.

Jean traces lazy patterns over Marco’s back, humming contently, and Marco presses languid, open-mouthed kisses into Jean’s neck and shoulder in between murmured praise.

After a few minutes, Marco pulls out, and Jean moans softly at the slickness of the movement, twitching, and then makes a smaller, more disgusted sound when he feels Marco’s come leaking out of him.

“Hm?” Marco questions tiredly, not understanding the sound, and Jean laughs breathily.

“Leaking,” is all he says, and Marco snorts before pushing himself up to look down at Jean thoughtfully.

“That’s hot,” he says at last, in the same low voice he fucked Jean with, and Jean blushes bright when Marco continues with, "You can still feel me inside of you." He snorts, though, pushing playfully at Marco's shoulder and willing his blush down.

“Yeah, yeah, loverboy,” he says, shifting to get up. “Gotta clean up, though. Shower?”

Marco’s eyes darken instantly, and he smiles. “Why not. We have to christen the rest of the place sooner or later, anyway.”

 

 


End file.
